


One on One

by silver-kin (06seconds_left)



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-30
Updated: 2010-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:05:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/06seconds_left/pseuds/silver-kin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first year is the year he becomes their second best pitcher. The year after, he becomes their ace. He owes it all to his senpai. This is how it began.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One on One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the livejournal community, 'novel_koushien'

"Takase!"

At the sound of his name, Junta turns around to see a senior jogging lightly towards him. He frowns a little, wondering if he's in trouble but after running over the events of today's practice in his head, he can't think of any reason he would be.

"Senpai," he greets. "What is it?"

"Are you doing anything tomorrow? After practice?"

Junta thinks about it, just in case there is something he's supposed to be doing. However, nothing comes to mind so he shakes his head. "No, I don't think so."

"Good. Then do you mind staying back afterwards for a while? I'd like to run through your pitches."

He's surprised at the offer and it shows. He knows it shows because he can feel the perfect circle his mouth is forming and his eyes are wide open and damn, he must look so stupid like that.

'Close it! Close it right now! Just act normal!' He clears his throat, trying to make sure his voice won't squeak or squeal or do anything to embarrass him. Junta swallows and asks, just to make sure, "Really?"

And the word comes out in hushed awe, like a child in the presence of his most respected idol and he wants to kick himself. Very hard.

But his senpai is chuckling, not at all unkindly and Junta relaxes a little. "Yeah, really. Can you make it?"

Something bubbles into his throat, this thick, rushed feeling that sticks in there and refuses to budge. Swallowing suddenly becomes difficult and speaking is even harder but he manages to force the next few sentences out anyway.

"Y-Yeah. I mean, yeah. Definitely."

"Great," Kazuki says and he smiles. "See you tomorrow, then."

Junta watches as he walks away, keeps watching out of the corner of his eye until Kazuki has turned around the corner and is completely out of sight. And then he relaxes, lets his face split into two as the expression takes up half his face.

By the time he gets home, he's grinning. He grins in the shower, he grins throughout dinner – despite the concerned looks his parents are shooting in his direction – and he somehow manages to keep grinning even with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. He's still grinning as he gets into bed and he's too excited to sleep. Anticipation and eagerness has put every nerve in his body on high alert and he can't relax long enough to surrender to drowsiness.

The next morning, Junta practically explodes out of the house.

Time can't move fast enough. In fact, it feels like time is moving exceptionally slow today, almost as if it's doing it deliberately just to spite him. He can't wait for after practice, can't even sit still in class because he keeps thinking about it – every time the thought enters his mind, he gets the desperate urge to jump out of his seat and do something physical, anything to work the excitement out of his system.

One on one practice. Almost like private lessons. With the person who is most likely going to be captain of the team next year.

He grins at the textbook. The current second year pitches pale in comparison to their ace and there is only one other first year pitcher aside from him. It's a chance he can't afford to waste, not if he wants to make it in with the regulars by next year.

Much, much later – after agonising hours of world history, math and English, practice finally starts. Junta does his best to concentrate, careful not to make any silly mistakes that might cost him this opportunity.

When practice finally finishes, he's not even tired yet. He still has a lot of energy left; his hands are itching to pitch, to wind up and feel the ball twist in his fingers and fly from his grip.

Kazuki walks up to him. "Okay. Here's what we're going to do. First, we'll run through all the pitches you have, just to get the basic look of them. Then, I'll pick a few and ask you to throw them again and we'll go from there. Is that alright?"

"Yeah," he says, trying to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice.

Nodding, Kazuki hands him a ball, moves back until he's a good distance away and crouches. Junta takes a deep breath and waits for the call.

He doesn't really know how much time they spend like that. All he thinks about is getting the pitches right. Every bit of energy he has, he puts into his throws, focusing on their feel and direction in order to make them as perfect as possible. He pours every ounce of the excitement that has been sitting in between his bones and muscles all day into the pitch, hurling them at Kazuki with as much force as he dares.

At some point, Kazuki stands up and starts walking in his direction. Junta takes off his cap and wipes the sweat off his brow before looking to his senpai, waiting for the verdict.

"You have good speed. With a little more work, you can improve on that. The course of your pitches is pretty good too..." he trails off, looking at Junta with a thoughtful expression.

He waits, then asks, "But?"

"Takase," he says. "Which pitch is your favourite?"

"My favourite," he repeats, making sure he heard right. "I don't think I have one."

"Alright...what do you think about your slider?"

"It's, uh, okay? I guess?"

"That's it? Okay? How do you feel about it?"

Junta hesitates, unsure of what would be an appropriate response. Finally, he decides to go with the truth. "It makes me uncomfortable."

Kazuki laughs a little at that. "I think it's good. With its trajectory and a little more speed, people won't be able to hit it easily. It could be useful in future matches so you should really consider it."

He remains sceptical. "I don't think so. I mean—" he stops himself. "Are you sure, senpai?"

Kazuki clasps one hand onto his shoulder. His grip is strong – warm. It sends a slight shiver down his spine and drops a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, making it twist and turn over and over. Then Kazuki smiles, an open, honest smile that stretches wide on his face and reaches all the way up to his eyes. "Trust me."

At that moment, Junta realises he cannot refuse.

So he doesn't.


End file.
